I Want Crazy
by CaitlinWalker
Summary: A little fluffy snippet into Russel and Mariel's relationship in happier times.


**There are nowhere near enough fics about this gem of a show, so here's my fluffy offering and insight into what life was like for Russell and Mariel before they got married and before Tom showed his hybrid face and finally pushed them apart (boo Tom). Again, as much as I'd love to I do not own this show, so therefore all credit must go to the wonderful cast and crew who made this little gem so darn good in its sole season! The song title is the name of a wonderful song by Mr Hunter Hayes.**

**Dedicated to the Joan to my Annie :-)**

**#**

Russell Varon faintly remembered a time in which their dining room table had been just that – a dining room table. That had been quite some time ago, before his fiancée had hijacked it, stacking medical journals precariously on top of one another and precariously close to the edge of the wooden surface as she crammed in refill pads, plastic bottles of water with varying levels of emptiness, not to mention pens, pencils and rulers. Mariel was neurotic, underlined everything with damn rulers, not accepting a line that wasn't a hundred and eighty degrees. That was what made all of this a little worrying, for this whole mess was not her. She was stressed…actually no, stressed barely even covered it.

"C'mon, Mariel," he whispered as he snuck up behind her, feeling her jump in the arms that he wrapped around her. "Take the day off, you deserve it."

"Finals are in two weeks, Russ. I'm not taking the day off."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I am not."

Russell sighed. He loved that girl so much and couldn't wait to marry her but sometimes she frustrated the hell out of him. Letting her go, he wandered around to the dining room table – turned Mariel's personal study space since, clearly, her desk in the spare room she had commandeered and turned into her study, had not been good enough. He grabbed the first book in reach and flipped to a random page. "A 49 year old homeless man is admitted with melaena and he has a history of alcohol excess and hepatitis C. A physical examination reveals mild tenderness in the epigastrium. An upper GI endoscopy is performed, and this picture," he turned the book to her, covering the answer with his thumb, "is from it. What's the underlying diagnosis?"

She took a few moments to study the image. "Evidence of a recent haemorrhage…visible vessel and some co-existent duodenitis…presence of the villi shows this as the duodenum, therefore the endoscopic appearances are of a reasonably sized duodenal ulcer meaning, this poor guy is suffering from a duodenal ulceration."

"Bingo," Russell smiled, closing the book shut. "Mariel, you're gonna ace these finals just like you've done with all the other exams. You're gonna be a great doctor, there's absolutely no need to stress yourself out, OK?"

"I'm not…" She looked down at her thumb which she had been subconsciously picking. A tiny amount of blood seeped out from the small piece of broken skin. "OK, maybe I am."

"Maybe?" Russell chuckled. "There's doubt?"

The glare that followed his words only lasted for a few moments before she broke into a smile. "Shut it you."

"Or what?"

"Or you're gonna hope that I know the correct procedure to remove my shoe from your ass."

"That's a simple surgery, right?"

"Right, for a proctologist. Need I remind you that's not gonna be my speciality?"

"Nope, you do not. But you're gonna be an awesome doctor so you're gonna be able to remove that shoe anyway. If there was a need to, which there won't be."

"There will be if you keep talking, Mister."

Chuckling, Russell dared to step in and take the pen right from her hand and toss it onto the couch, earning another glare in return for his bravery before a shake of her head as she reached for a replacement pen. He placed a hand on top of the reaching hand, stopping it from grasping another, and did exactly the same when she tried to be smart and use her other hand. "Take. A. Break."

She sighed. "You're not gonna leave me alone, are you?"

"What do you think?"

Another sigh, but again it was a sigh with a smile. "No."

"Good. I'm glad to see that future generations of Americans are in smart hands. Now, speaking of hands, give me yours." He reached for her hand to pull her up to her feet but staying true to her stubborn self, she resisted.

"Let me finish reading this paragraph first though, Russ."

"Fine. I'll give you ten seconds, by the end of which, I fully expect your hand to be in mine. _Ten_."

"Geez, patients are more patient than you and that's saying something," she tutted.

"Read, damn it. _Nine_."

"I can't read if you're yapping away at me."

"Then don't. Stop now. _Eight_."

"Damn it, you win," she muttered, slamming the hardback shut and taking his hand. "Fine, mister. But I expect to be swept off my feet, OK? And left alone to study starting from tomorrow?"

"What my beautiful fiancé wants, my beautiful fiancé will get."

"Well, if I'm being honest, I did want to study but-."

He silenced her with a kiss. "Believe me; after what I've got planned for us today, that will absolutely be the last thing that you will want."

His grin was even more infectious than all the diseases and illnesses she had been killing herself over studying. And to this day, she still was not immune to his charm. "What have you got planned?"

Russell didn't answer, just winked and led her to the front door, and out to his truck that he'd filled full of gas this morning. The girl, his girl deserved a treat. A reason to smile, rather than frown over textbooks and journals. To start living her own life instead of thinking about how to save others. And that was exactly what he had planned for the day.


End file.
